


But satisfaction brought it back

by HanukoYoukai



Category: Black Cat (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Daredevil (TV) - Freeform, France (Country), Gen, Heist, Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020, rococo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanukoYoukai/pseuds/HanukoYoukai
Summary: News of the Black Cat had been spreading all over the country. The most famous burglar in France, the Black Cat could sneak into any home and disappear without a trace. No one knew who he was, or what he looked like. All they knew was he was the most skilled thief in the country, possibly all of Europe. No man’s treasure was safe if the Black Cat had his eyes on it.Felicia straightened her deep blue skirt and adjusted her basket as she moved through the marketplace, a secret smile playing along her lips.
Kudos: 5
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020





	But satisfaction brought it back

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is our entry for Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020! It's been really fun to write (a bit of a divergence from my norm, that's for sure), and the artwork is absolutely beautiful. 
> 
> This fantastic art was created by the fantastic Cruria. Please go check out [Cruria's AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cruria) for more!
> 
> This was beta'd by the wonderful yourselenite. Check out their work [here!](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/yourselenite/pseuds/yourselenite)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

* * *

“Did you hear?”

“Yes, Lord Lebeau’s home was ransacked!”

“Who was the thief?”

“Surely it was someone he knew. How else could he get inside?”

“I heard it was the Black Cat.”

“The Black Cat is in Paris?”

News of the Black Cat had been spreading all over the country. The most famous burglar in France, the Black Cat could sneak into any home and disappear without a trace. No one knew who he was, or what he looked like. All they knew was he was the most skilled thief in the country, possibly all of Europe. No man’s treasure was safe if the Black Cat had his eyes on it.

Felicia straightened her deep blue skirt and adjusted her basket as she moved through the marketplace, a secret smile playing along her lips. Her long blonde hair was currently tucked under a warp, and she looked like all the other women doing their shopping. After her father died, she was on her own. When people discovered she was alone, managing for herself with no estate to her name and no family to care for her, they pitied her. Paris was a hard city, and the shopkeepers were less inclined to give charity to most, but Felicia was a pretty girl who fell upon hard times. Many of the reputable men and women who she bought wares from offered her a kind word, and even a bargain they wouldn’t offer others because of her striking features. Some did it to be kind, others to get her to spare a moment to meet their eligible bachelor of a son. After all, she had no fortune of her own, and someone would have to take care of her.

They didn’t know about the six silver spoons tucked into the pouch on her belt.

Remy was a nice man. He saw her in the gardens of his home during the last party he threw for his sycophants. She smiled and twisted her hair and flirted, touching his arm and allowing him to dance with her. He assumed she had accompanied one of his guests. It was surprising how long it took for him to realize how much of his finery was missing. That worked to Felicia’s favor, however, and she was gleeful at her good fortune. She was certain Paris would be good to her.

“First Spider Lad, now the Black Cat?” she heard one merchant glower to another. “Well, that’s Paris for you. The King has allowed mistresses in his palace, spitting in the face of the church. Meanwhile, he’s trying to starve us out, with these new taxes on grain—”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, William,” another replied, scoffing.

“I’m just saying, of course we’re attracting criminals now! Shit rolls downhill.”

“You looking to purchase, miss?” Felicia looked up and smiled at the woman in front of her, gesturing toward the breads in her stall. She was older, but her wrinkled face had kind blue eyes that twinkled at her. Wisps of silver and grey hair escaped her cap. Felicia looked at the treats lined in front of her, then grinned in delight.

“Is that choux?” she asked, pointing to some small, golden-brown balls in the display.

The woman smiled warmly. “Yes, dear, filled with custard.”

Felicia pulled out her coin and bought several for her basket.

“My nephew is fond of these, as well,” she said. Felicia raised an eyebrow. “They’re a favorite of his. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t bother. Most people are only looking for my loaves, and day old at that.” She sighed and shook her head. “Hard times fall upon us all, don’t they dear?”

“Perhaps,” Felicia replied. Another shopper came up. Felicia eyed the fresh bread displayed as well. “Speaking of bread, I need a loaf of that as well, please.”

Once she finished her purchase, she drifted away, the sound of the old woman speaking to her next customer fading as she moved further into the crowd. Felicia reached into her basket and brought one of the choux pastries to her lips, biting into it. She smiled at the sweet flavor of the cream mixing with the bread, working her way back to her apartment.

“Have you heard?” someone whispered as she got closer to her building. Felicia paused and rummaged through her basket, listening to the conversation.

“What?” a woman said, pinning laundry to a line.

“Mister Fisk is hosting a party tomorrow night!” the first woman said, excitedly.

“Didn’t he just arrive? He certainly doesn’t waste time, does he?” the woman scoffed.

“I heard it’s supposed to be huge! It’s going to be a masquerade.”

“Of course,” the woman grumbled, shaking out another wet cloth from her basket. “Another noble has an expensive party, flaunting his wealth, while my husband and I—who make a respectable living, mind you—are struggling to put food on the table.”

“But Mister Fisk isn’t a noble,” the first woman said. “He’s from the colonies in America. He made his own fortune before coming back to Europe.”

“If he didn’t make it on the blood of men, I’ll eat my hat.”

Felicia entered her building and made her way up to her small apartment on one of the upper floors. She hummed in thought as she climbed the stairs.

_ Mister Fisk, _ she thought to herself.  _ I wonder what treasures you might be hiding away in your fancy manor. _

* * *

Wilson scowled as Wesley brushed his hand over the giant’s sleeves.

“Wesley, for the last time, there is no powder on my jacket,” he grumbled, straightening his collar.

“Of course, sir,” Wesley replied. After giving one final brush he stood back and straightened up. A blue, porcelain mask sat over the top half of his face. Wilson straightened the white one that covered his own features, smiling at the nobles who were arriving.

“I’ve never liked mixing business with pleasure,” he said in a low voice, moving through the crowd. Wesley walked next to him, nodding in greeting to the people who came to meet the American philanthropist.

“Well, that seems to be the way they do things here, Mister Fisk,” Wesley replied. He paused and stared at a point across the room. Wilson frowned, watching his friend before looking in the same direction. He nearly chuckled at what he saw.

“She is quite glamorous, isn’t she?” he asked, tilting his head toward the newcomer.

A beautiful woman wearing a lacy black and grey dress was laughing daintily amongst several young women at the party. She wore a small, black mask that barely framed her eyes. Her blonde hair was so light, it looked nearly white itself. It was bold of her to be so forward with no wig. Wilson admired how well she fit in, despite her economic status. It was refreshing to see someone standing out for the right reasons.

Wesley seemed very taken with her.

“Perhaps you should introduce yourself?” Wilson asked with a chuckle. Wesley shook himself.

“No, no I have duties to attend to,” he stuttered, straightening his spine. “Besides, there’s not much to interest her when it comes to me, sir.”

“Come on,” he said, marching forward. Wesley followed with the meekest of protests. The girls all tittered as he approached, except the blonde woman who only offered them a smile.

“Good evening, ladies,” Wilson said, smiling at them. He was met with giggles and curtsies. The blonde woman nodded her head in recognition as she greeted him, then offered her hand for him to kiss. He did so, and started to gesture to his friend beside him, but the woman beat him to it, fluttering her eyelashes and giving him a shy curtsy. When she offered her hand, Wesley bent forward to kiss it quickly, then averted his eyes when he let it go.

“My lady,” Wilson said, kindly, “Welcome to my home. Allow me to introduce my associate. This is James Wesley.”

The woman’s smile grew. “Thank you for having us, Mister Fisk. My name is Felicia Hardy. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and what a delightful surprise to make your friend’s acquaintance,” she said, twisting a strand of hair around her finger, not taking her eyes off Wesley. “Mister Wesley,” she said, “I like your mask. It’s a very striking color.”

“Not nearly as striking as yours, Miss Hardy,” Wesley replied, smoothly. Felicia giggled and looked around the room, waving her hand at her face.

“Are you alright?” Wesley asked.

Felicia looked startled, then grinned in embarrassment. “Oh yes, of course! It’s just very warm in here, with so many people.”

“Perhaps Wesley would like to take you on a stroll through our gardens?” Wilson interjected, gesturing toward the terrace. “To allow you to catch your breath and cool off, of course.”

Felicia looked between Wilson and Wesley, expression turning coy.

“Oh, I couldn’t take Mr. Wesley’s attention. I can see you need him here,” she said, bashful.

“Nonsense. I can be without my aide for a short time,” Wilson chuckled. Wesley looked over at him with a curious expression. Wilson shrugged and took a step back.

Wesley looked back at Felicia. “If you would do me the honor of allowing me to escort you through the gardens, Miss Hardy,” he said, offering his arm to Felicia. Felicia linked her arm with his and he led her through the terrace doors. Wilson watched them go, shaking his head. Wesley could get too wrapped up in work. Spending some time with a pretty girl would do him good.

* * *

“I really did have a lovely time tonight,” Felicia said, smiling demurely while she inwardly calculated the best point of entry to the manor. It was a three-story building. Not the highest Felicia had to sneak in and out of, but definitely not the lowest, either. Leaving would be easy enough. Worst case scenario, she could leave from the room if she brought her grappling hook. It was where she could sneak in that she struggled. And James proved to be a bit too much of a gentleman for her liking.

At least when it came to doing a job.

Oh, he followed the same pattern as the rest of them. He was struck dumb by her looks, and fond of her giggles. He liked to talk about himself and his friend, telling her all kinds of tales about America. The creatures there sounded exciting and frightening. The people living in the colonies led interesting lives. Despite her prodding (driven purely by her curiosity), James constantly deflected when she asked him how Mister Fisk came to his fortune.

He was much more clever than most who were previously in his position.

Nevertheless, he still showed her the entire layout of the gardens, and when they returned, he led her through several rooms that held all sorts of finery. The silver was kept in the kitchen. Mister Fisk kept his coin in his office on the upper floor. When Wesley allowed her to tour the third floor, he said Wilson’s most favored treasure was kept in a spare room near his bedroom. Felicia had eyed the room across the hall from Wesley’s own before they rejoined the party, curious at the objects it could contain.

“It was a pleasure accompanying you,” James replied, smiling easily. “Perhaps I will see you at the next party. I understand Mister Stark may be hosting an event tomorrow.”

Felicia glanced down bashfully. “I would like that,” she replied. She walked towards the carriages, waving at him. “Good night!”

“Good night, Miss Hardy.” James watched as she climbed into an unoccupied carriage. Felicia smirked as the door shut. The wheels creaked as they moved down the stone road back towards the heart of the city. Tomorrow night would be the perfect time to strike.

* * *

Felicia watched carefully from the garden shed, hidden amongst the tools. Mister Fisk and James had just left the manor to head to Mister Stark’s party. Felicia heard his events could last for hours. Hopefully, she would have plenty of time to finish the job.

She was a completely different creature than she was at the market this morning. Her long, silver-blonde hair was tied back in a tight braid. She wore a tight, grey shift tucked into long black trousers. A small, black jacket covered her shirt, buttoned from her neck to the waist of her pants. She replaced her boots with soft, small slippers. A thick, leather belt was wrapped around her hips, holding several pouches, purses, and a coiled rope tied to a grappling hook. On her face was a simple, black mask that covered her from her nose to the roots of her hair. If that baker could see her now, Felicia was certain the woman might clutch her chest at how much of her body was revealed.

_ “Back again, dear?” the woman asked in greeting as Felicia approached her counter. _

__

_ “I can’t help myself,” Felicia responded, pulling out her coin. “Those choux buns are delicious.” _

__

_ “You just missed Peter—my nephew. He was stopped by on his way to class.” _

__

_ “Well, maybe next time we’ll run into each other,” Felicia said with a wink. _

It was remarkable how quickly the day went by for Felicia. It seemed like one moment, she was savoring a delicious, baked treat. Then the next, it was sunset and she had to ready herself to go to Fisk’s Manor.

Mister Fisk’s carriage trundled down the lane and out of sight. Felicia held her breath for a moment to collect her bearings before she made her move. As quick and silent as her namesake, the Black Cat darted through the garden to the unlocked terrace. The lights were out in the room beyond. Felicia pulled open the door and crept inside, shutting it softly behind her. She paused, focusing on her surroundings, listening for anything out of place.

There were no servants moving about in this part of the house. Felicia toed her way across the room to the kitchen, heart beating in her throat. She knew from James that Mister Fisk tended to keep a skeleton crew when he wasn’t entertaining, so the odds of running into someone were slim in a space this size, but it didn’t stop her from being cautious. She wasn’t the best burglar in all of France for nothing, after all.

Once she reached the space, she let out a relieved breath. No one was working in here, at least not for the moment. She managed to snatch several spoons and some candle holders, tucking them into a large pouch that hung on her belt. After she tucked away her first prize, she moved back out into the main room, then quietly sneaked towards the stairs.

Felicia moved up the staircase, the soft soles of her shoes muffling her steps as she climbed. First stop was the office. The creaking of a door caught her attention, causing her to dart into the shadows of a statue next to her. Felicia pressed herself back against the wall, eyes peeled wide. A small light was flickering down the hallway, accompanied by the sound of footsteps. Felicia held her breath and kept very still as the old housekeeper walked past. The woman was muttering to herself about missing home as she went by. She didn’t notice a single thing out of place. The woman disappeared down the hall towards the servants quarters, if the tour James gave Felicia was to be believed.

Felicia carefully let out the air held in her lungs, unpeeling herself from the wall. Once she felt safe enough to move again, she quickly ran to the office, sliding inside. She looked around the room, frowning. The other night when she saw this room with James, there was a wooden chest on the desk. Now it was nowhere to be found. Felicia went to the desk, examining it for unlocked drawers, frowning when she came up empty. She did not give up quickly, though. Once the desk proved fruitless, she took to the shelves, looking amongst all of them for that small, locked box. She was able to find a key that looked small enough to fit the lock, but otherwise was at a loss. While she was glad she would be able to put some coin in her pouches instead of stealing the whole box itself, it didn’t do her any good if she couldn’t figure out where the coin was kept.

Felicia sighed as she went back to the desk, frowning. Losing the money wasn’t the end of the world. She still had the silver from the kitchen. But that was the biggest haul in the manor. Missing out on it was unfortunate.

Felicia leaned over the desk, rolling her knuckles along the surface as she thought of what to do. Then, she heard a hollow thud. Felicia straightened up; eyes wide in surprise as she tapped the same spot on the desk. It was definitely hollow. With a grin, the thief felt along the underside of the desk, triumphant when she felt a board shift. After she removed the panel, she reached up to find the small, black chest she knew was on the desk before. She pulled the chest to the floor beside her, then quickly unlocked it with the small key she found. Grinning madly, she pulled handfuls of coin out of the chest, putting them into her purses. Once the bags were full, she locked the box and put it back where she found it. Replacing the board was the hardest part, but once it clicked into place, Felicia was up and off, dropping the key off on the shelves as she exited the room.

Carefully, quietly, she made her way up to the third and final landing. These were the rooms Mister Fisk kept for his own personal use, excepting one that James would stay in. Felicia went to the secret door at the end of the hall where she knew Fisk kept his greatest prize. She tested the knob, frowning when she found it was locked.

Felicia was not one to be stopped by a locked door. She pulled a lockpicking tool from her belt and carefully got to work, pushing and prodding at the mechanism with the pick until it unlatched and gave way. Felicia opened the door to the room, wondering what she would find, here.

For the most part, the room was sparse. Many tables were covered in cloth, and it seemed like only recently people had been in here, considering just the floor was swept. There was dust still coating the furniture. Felicia frowned, moving forward. James said this was a room Mister Fisk kept off limits, since it contained his dearest treasures. But there was not much here that seemed to be worth saving. A portrait of a dark-haired woman with kind brown eyes leaned against the wall. She held a small boy in her lap.

Felicia found herself drawn to the picture, moving towards it with her hand outstretched. She traced her fingers against the woman’s face, awed. Her fingers trailed down to her exposed clavicle, which held a white, teardrop shaped jewel on a silver chain. Just below, pressed against her breast, the small boy was staring out, brown eyes shy as he tried to hide in his mother’s lap. Felicia tilted her head, smiling softly. It was beautiful. They were beautiful.

A creak snapped her back to reality. She didn’t have time to dawdle here. Felicia whirled around, ready to call off her search when she saw it.

It was sitting on top of a small, covered table, tucked away in the corner of the room. A wooden box with no latch. Felicia all but ran to it, greedily feeling around the edges. She pulled off the lid, eyes lit up in delight at what she saw.

The pendant from the painting was sitting atop velvet that lined the inside of the case, shining dully despite the lack of light in the room.

Felicia didn’t hesitate. She snatched the necklace and replaced the lid, ready to dart out of the room. As soon as she reached the door, she paused.

Heavy footsteps were coming down the hall.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well, sir?” That was James’s voice. A golden light started to flicker under the door frame. Felicia felt her heart pounding as she looked around the room, quickly moving to a table and ducking behind it. She had just managed to creep under the cloth when she heard the twist of a key in a lock. The door opened.

“I am now that we’re home, Wesley,” Mister Fisk said. He sounded irritated. “Mister Stark certainly has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

“He shouldn’t even be here,” James replied, scoffing. “How that English colonist has any amnesty here is beyond me.”

“He’s done some impressive things in New York,” Fisk replied. “And I’ve heard those colonists aren’t very impressed with King George’s rule. It seems some of the taxing on their colonies is starting to get out of hand. Perhaps they’ll be our allies sooner than we think.”

“Perhaps,” James said. His voice held a hint of disbelief. “Would you like me to leave you here, sir?”

Felicia’s eyes grew wide. She had no idea what Fisk intended to do in this room, or how long he would be in it. She held very still, necklace still clutched in her hand. If she were discovered—there was no telling what would happen to her.  _ Be calm, _ she told herself sternly.  _ Whatever he throws at you, you’ll handle it. _

“No, Wesley,” Fisk said, softly. The floor creaked as they moved. “I just wanted to say goodnight to my darling Vanessa and Richard.”

“Paris isn’t forever, sir,” James offered. “We’ll be back home soon, and you’ll see them again.”

“Yes,” Fisk sighed. “That much is true. Come along, Wesley. We have business to discuss.” Felicia crouched, completely still in her hiding place, listening to the door shut. After several minutes, she pressed her hand to her heart. That was much too close for comfort. She carefully slipped out of her hiding place, standing and examining the room.

Her first exit plan was out. There was no way she would risk heading back the way she came. In fact, there was no way she was leaving this room if she could help it. Felicia walked to the windows, examining all of them until she reached the one in the corner. Just outside was enough of a ledge for her narrow feet, and a few feet beyond was a tall tree.

She had no other options. If she couldn’t climb to the roof, she would have to make the jump to the tree. With any luck, she would get off the property in time to avoid being seen.

Of course, that was only assuming she couldn’t make the climb. Felicia had yet to find a wall she couldn’t conquer. She pulled her grappling hook off her belt and slung it over her shoulder.

Felicia unlatched the window and pushed it open, then leaned out, spinning her grappling hook. She released it, watching it soar over the edge of the rooftop. She tugged the rope until it was taut, tugging a few times to ensure the line could hold her weight. She carefully eased herself up and out of the window. Felicia brought her feet up to the ledge and pushed herself up, not wobbling at all as she found her footing. Felicia pulled herself up on the rope, climbing until she could pull herself over the edge.

Panting, Felicia freed the hook and gathered the rope, ready to move towards the garden side of the room so she could escape. Before she took two steps, she stopped, eyes wide at the scene that greeted her.

In the moonlight, Felicia saw a red-hooded figure pushing themselves up onto the roof as well. The hood covered the person’s whole head. Felicia wondered how they could see through the fabric. Crude, white eyes were stitched on the front. Perhaps it was something thinner that allowed for sight?

As soon as the person was on their feet they stopped, frozen at the sight of Felicia. Felicia waited, wondering what this other masked person was here for.

She didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“Um,” the voice definitely sounded masculine. Felicia scanned the man with her eyes, quirking her eyebrows at what she saw. Red gloves and boots covered his hands and feet. A short-sleeved jacket was worn over a blue shirt, and tight blue trousers clung to his legs.

“Spider Lad?” she asked, indignantly.

“I prefer Spider Man,” he replied, sounding a little dejected.

“And yet, they all call you Spider Lad,” she replied, smirking. She put her hand on her hip, jutting it out slightly to draw attention to her figure. She knew she made a pretty picture.

“Right,” he said. He twisted his head around, frowning. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“And what’s with the black clothes? You look like a burg—my God.” He sounded shocked. Felicia’s smile grew. “ _ My God! _ You’re the Black Cat?”

“A girl never gives away her secrets, Spider Lad,” she replied, coyly.

“The Black Cat is a woman? Why are you wearing trousers?”

“Well, it’s much easier to get around in trousers than it is in skirts, don’t you think?” she stepped toward him. Spider Lad continued to stare at her, almost awed.

“I,” he cleared his throat, “I wouldn’t know.” Felicia raised her hand to the top of her jacket, letting her fingers trail down to undo the buttons.

“What—why are you taking off your jacket?”

“It’s a bit warm this evening, don’t you think?” she asked, coming into the vigilante’s space once the jacket hung open.

“I—guess so?” He shook himself. “Wait, why are you even here? Don’t you know who this is? If the Kingpin finds out you robbed him, he’ll kill you!”

“The Kingpin?” she asked, close enough to breathe the same air as him.

“The owner of this manor is a bad guy, Cat,” he said, seriously. Felicia glanced over his shoulder. Just behind him were the gardens. She could see the shed and the hidden road in the moonlight. “No one who crosses him lives to tell the tale.”

She swallowed, trying to cover up her nerves. It was hard to believe Wilson Fisk was a killer, but people didn’t just stumble onto fortune. And there were rumors that his wealth was all blood money.

“It’s a good thing he won’t find out then, isn’t it,” Felicia said, reaching out to touch his masked face. “Come now, it’s not like you’ll tell on me, will you Spider Lad?”

“I—”

“A big, strong man like you wouldn’t throw a woman to a monster like that, would you?” she batted her eyelashes, feeling him still under her fingers as she drew closer, nearly pressing herself against him.

“What—no, I wouldn’t,” he murmured. She leaned forward, tilting her head toward his ear.

“My hero,” she whispered. “How can I thank you?”

“Um—no… no thanks nece—ARGH!” he pressed his fist to his mouth to muffle the pained scream that escaped him when her knee found his crotch. Felicia stepped away, watching him buckle over as she darted to the edge of the roof.

“See you later, Spider Lad,” she said, latching her hook to the roof and scaling down. Once she was on the ground, she jostled the hook until it came free. Pulling it after her, she ran through the gardens and out into the night. As she ran down the lane, she could see windows lighting up in the house she left behind.

* * *

“Good morning,” Felicia said with a grin, pulling out her coin. The old woman grinned at her approach, moving towards the choux buns. She slapped the hand of a young man with dark brown hair, who was trying to grab a pastry from the display.

“Ouch!” he said, shaking his hand out.

“Young man,” she replied sternly, “you know better.”

“Sorry, Aunt May,” he replied, shrugging. Felicia appraised him. He looked smart enough. He wore a clean jacket and nice trousers, and a leather bag was slung across his shoulder, resting against his hip. The man looked over at Felicia and grinned sheepishly.

“May?” Felicia asked. The old woman raised her head as she gathered two choux buns for Felicia. “That’s a beautiful name.”

May glanced between her and the young man. “I’m afraid I never caught yours, dear.”

Felicia offered a coy smile as she gave May her money for her purchase. “Felicia Hardy,” she said, glancing at the young man again. He blushed and looked away, clearing his throat.

“It’s nice to meet you Felicia. I’m May Parker, and this is my nephew, Peter. He’s the one I’ve been telling you about, remember? He attends the university here.”

“Aunt May,” Peter said, scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Felicia said, offering her hand. Peter took it and bowed gracefully, barely brushing his lips against her knuckles.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Hardy.”

“Please,” Felicia said, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. She was used to men fawning over her, but this man was especially handsome. “Felicia is fine.”

“Of course, Felicia,” he replied, straightening up. He glanced over at his aunt. Felicia saw her watching them excitedly, her hands held together under her chin. “I’m afraid I’m on my way to my classes.”

“My apartment is near the university, actually,” she replied.

“Would you allow me to escort you?” Peter asked, dropping her hand. He held out his arm instead.

Felicia wrapped her own around it. “I would like nothing more, Mister Parker.”

“Stay out of trouble,” May tutted. Felicia could see her eyes twinkling mischievously at them. Peter blushed at her words.

“We will, Aunt May,” he replied, guiding Felicia away from the market. They walked together along the paved streets, drawing further and further away from the crowd of haggling people behind them.

“University, Mister Parker?” Felicia asked, quirking her eyebrow. “Your parents must be making a decent living, with the hard times we’re in.”

“Oh, no,” Peter said, chuckling. “My parents passed many years ago. I was raised by my aunt and my late uncle.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said, touching his hand with hers. Her basket hung idly in the crook of her elbow.

He glanced down at her fingers and cleared his throat. “Thank you,” Peter replied, giving her a kind smile. “I actually have a sponsor, which is how I’m able to attend.”

“Who is your sponsor, if you don’t mind my asking?” Felicia continued. His brown eyes watched her playfully.

“You are very curious, aren’t you?” he replied, grinning.

“I suppose,” she offered. “But to be fair, you’re very intriguing, Mister Parker.”

Peter grinned broadly at her, showing strong, cared-for teeth. “I’ll answer but only if you call me Peter.”

“Very well, Peter,” she said. “Who sponsors you to attend the university?”

Peter chuckled and looked away. “Doctor Richards,” he said, simply.

“Doctor Reed Richards?” Felicia asked, a little stunned. It was said he offered counsel to the king on several occasions.

“Yes. I helped his brother-in-law when he was in a tight spot, and we became friends. When Doctor Richards heard of my financial situation, he insisted on sponsoring me.”

“That’s very kind of him,” Felicia replied.

“Yes,” Peter agreed, “I owe him and Johnny a lot.”

“How does one owe their friends anything?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t supporting one another what friends are for?”

“I guess so,” Peter replied. “That’s a beautiful pendant, Felicia.”

Felicia smiled as his eyes lingered on her newly acquired necklace, tilting her head up more so the sun could hit the stone, making it shine. “Thank you. It’s one of my very best treasures.”

“So there’s a story behind it?” he asked.

“Stop distracting me from asking about you!” Felicia asked, deflecting his question. “It’s not every day one meets a university student sponsored by Doctor Richards. I have to know everything about you, now.”

“Felicia, don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?” Peter said, in a mockery of a stern voice. She could see the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile.

“Maybe so,” Felicia replied, breezily, “but satisfaction brought it back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Writing Notes:
> 
> 1\. I've never written an historical au before. The artwork was inspired by the rococo style and that time period, which was a happy little time before all the nasty stuff started building up for the French Revolution. I say this with all the confidence that google and wikipedia can give me. ^.^" 
> 
> 2\. The hardest parts? Figuring out the following: What would one steal when robbing a house during the 18th century? (spooooooons) What kinds of baked goods had been invented and eaten in the 18th century? (I can definitely say NOT croissants) How did university work for people who weren't nobility? (surprisingly a lot easier to attend than I originally thought). 
> 
> 3\. I really enjoyed writing the part where Spider-Man and Black Cat meet for the first time. I had a lot of fun putting that together. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a Kudos if you were entertained, and leave a comment with your thoughts! And feel free to come say hello to me on [Tumblr!](https://hanuko.tumblr.com/)


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